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THE 



ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS 



J 



JOHN PIERPONT 



' Was it right, 
While my unnumbered brethren toiled and bled, 
That I should dream away the entrusted hours 
On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart, 
With feelings all too delicate for use ?' — Coleridge. 



BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY OLIVER JOHNSON. 

And Sold at 25 Cornhill. 

1843. 






31 to 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1843, 
By OLIVER JOHNSON, 
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 






OLIVER JOHNSON, PRINTEB 

47 Court Street. 



V 



TO THE READER. 



This compilation embraces all the Poems that Mr. Pierpont has writ- 
ten on the subject of Slaver) - . Several of them are contained in the 
complete collection of his Poems, published in 1S40.* Alluding to these, 
i)i his preface to that volume, the author says: — 'Though some of my 
friends may grieve, and wish that I had been more prudent than to write 
the pieces that touch thus upon Human Liberty, and upon the outrageous 
wrongs that, in these days and in this our land, it has suffered, their 
grandchildren will thank me, and may be freer men for them.' There 
are others of Mr. Pierpont's friends, who, feeling that they are freer 
men for them, will not leave it for their grandchildren to thank him. It 
was to gratify such, and to increase their number, till the American slave, 
too, shall be free, that the compiler obtained the author's permission to 
publish this selection for them to circulate ; sharing their conviction, that 
the fit offering of gratitude to the pious man and the poet is the diffusion 
of his soul-stirring words and ennobling thoughts 

Boston, May 25, 1S43. 

* 'Airs of Palestine, and other Poems, by John Pierpont.' Boston : Ja?nes 
Mwroe and Co. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE. 

Prayer of the Christian 7 

A Word from a Petitioner 10 

The Tocsin IS 

The Gag- 21 

The Chain 28 

The Fugitive Slave's Apostrophe to the North Star 29 

Slaveholder's Address to the North Star 34 

Economy of Slavery 39 

Plymouth Rock 10 

The Liberty Bell tf 

To Abolitionists 

Death of Charles Follen 19 

Hymn for the First of August r i\ 

Prayer of the Abolitionist 53 

Unchain the Laborer 

Prayer for the SlaVe 57 

Ode, for the Constituents of J. Q. Adams ■ 60 

• I would not live always ' 62 

Oft, in the Chilly Night 63 



ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS. 



PRAYER OF THE CHRISTIAN 



With thy pure dews and rains, 
Wash out, O God, the stains, 

From Afric's shore ; 
And, while her palm trees hud, 
Let not her children's blood, 
With her broad Niger's flood, 

Be mingled more ! 

Quench, righteous God, the thirst, 
That Congo's sons hath cursed — 
The thirst for gold ! 



ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Shall not thy thunders speak, 
Where Mammon's altars reek, 
Where maids and matrons shriek, 
Bound, bleeding, sold? 

Hear'st thou, O God, those chains, 
Clanking on Freedom's plains, 

By Christians wrought? 
Them, who those chains have worn, 
Christians from home have torn, 
Christians have hither borne, 

Christians have bought ! 

Cast down, great God, the fanes 
That, to unhallowed gains, 

Round us have risen — 
Temples, whose priesthood pore 
Moses and Jesus o'er, 
Then bolt the black man's door, 

The poor man's prison ! 

Wilt thou not, Lord, at last, 
From thine own image, cast 



BY JOHN PIEItPONT. 

Away all cords, 
But that of love, which brings 
Man, from his wanderings, 
Back to the King of kings, 

The Lord of lords ! 
1829. 



10 ANTI-SLAVEEY POEMS, 



A WORD FROM A PETITIONER. 



What ! our petitions spurned ! The prayer 
Of thousands, — tens of thousands, — cast 

Unheard, beneath your Speaker's chair ! 
But ye ivill hear us, first or last. 

The thousands that, last year, ye scorned, 

Are millions now. Be warned ! Be warned ! 

Turn not. contemptuous, on your heel ; — 

It is not for an act of grace 
That, suppliants, at your feet we kneel, — 

"We stand ; — we look you in the face, 
And say, — and we have weighed the word, — 
That our petitions shall be heard. 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 11 

There are two powers above the laws 
Ye make or mar : — they 're our allies. 

Beneath their shield we '11 urge our cause, 
Though all your hands against us rise. 

We've proved them, and we know their might; 

The Constitution and the Right. 

We say not, ye shall snap the links 
That bind you to your dreadful slaves ; 

Hug, if ye will, a corpse that stinks, 
And toil on with it to your graves ! 

But, that ye may go, coupled thus, 

Ye never shall make slaves of us. 

And what, but more than slaves, are they, 
Who 're told they ne'er shall be denied 

The right of prayer; yet, when they pray, 
Their prayers, unheard, are thrown aside ? 

Such mockery they will tamely bear, 

Who 're fit an iron chain to wear. 

' The ox, that treadeth out the corn, 

Thou shalt not muzzle.' — Thus saith God. 
And will ye muzzle the free-born, — 



12 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

The man, — the owner of the sod, — 
Who ' gives the grazing ox his meat,' 
And you, — his servants here, — your seat?/ 

There 's a cloud, blackening up the sky ! 

East, west, and north its curtain spreads ; 
Lift to its muttering folds your eye ! 

Beware ! for, bursting on your heads, 
It hath a force to bear you down ; — 
'Tis an insulted people's frown. 

Ye may have heard of the Soultan, 

And how his Janissaries fell ! 
Their barracks, near the Atmeidan, 

He barred, and fired; — and their death-yell 
Went to the stars, — and their blood ran, 
In brooks, across the Atmeidan. 

The despot spake ; and, in one night, 
The deed was done. He wields, alone, 

The sceptre of the Ottomite, 

And brooks no brother near his throne. 

Even now, the bow-string, at his beck, 

Goes round his mightiest subject's neck; 



BY JOHN PIEEPONT. 13 

Yet will he, in his saddle, stoop, — 
I 've seen him, in his palace-yard, — 

To take petitions from a troop 

Of women, who, behind his guard, 

Come up, their several suits to press, 

To state their wrongs, and ask redress. 

And these, into his house of prayer, 

I 've seen him take ; and, as he spreads 

His own before his Maker there, 

These women's prayers he hears or reads , — 

For, while he wears the diadem, 

He is instead of God to them. 

And this he must do. He may grant, 

Or may deny ; but hear he must. 
Were his Seven Towers all adamant, 

They'd soon be levelled with the dust, 
And ' public feeling ' make short work, — 
Should he not hear them, — with the Turk. 

Nay, start not from your chairs, in dread 

Of cannon-shot, or bursting shell ! 
These shall not fall upon your head, 



14 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

As once upon your house they fell. 
We have a weapon, firmer set, 
And better than the bayonet ; — 

A weapon that comes down as still 

As snowsflakes fall upon the sod ; 
But executes a freeman's will 

As lightning does the will of God ; 
And from its force, nor doors nor locks 
Can shield you; — 'tis the ballot-box. 

Black as your deed shall be the balls 
That from that box shall pour like hail ! 

And, when the storm upon you falls, 

How will your craven cheeks turn pale ! 

For, at its coming though ye laugh, 

'Twill sweep you from your hall, like chaff 

Nut women, now, — ihe people pray. 

Hear us, — ox from us ye will hear! 
Beware ! — a desperate game ye play ! 

The men that thicken in your rear, — 
Kings though ye be, — may not be scorned. 
Look to your move ! your stake ! — Ye 're warned. 

1837. 



BY JOHN PIEUPONT. 1 S 



THE T0CSIN\ 



' If the pulpit be silent, whenever or wherever there may be a sinner, 
bloody with this guilt, within the hearing of its voice, the pulpit is false 
to its trust.' — D. Webster. 



Wake ! children of the men who said, 
' All are born free ! ' — Their spirits come 

Back to the places where they bled 
In Freedom's holy martyrdom, 

And find you sleeping on their graves, 

And hugging there your chains, — ye slaves ! 

Ay, — slaves of slaves ! What, sleep ye yet, 
And dream of Freedom, while ye sleep ? 

Ay, — dream, while Slavery's foot is set 
So firmly on your necks, — while deep 

The chain, her quivering flesh endures, 

Gnaws, like a cancer, into yours ? 



16 ANTI-SLAVERY TOE MS, 

Hah ! say ye that 1 've falsely spoken, 

Calling you slaves? — Then prove ye 're not; 

Work a free press ! — ye '11 see it broken ; * 
Stand to defend it ! — ye '11 be shot, t — 

O yes ! but people should not dare 

Print what ' the brotherhood ' won't bear ! 

Then from your lips let words of grace, 
Gleaned from the Holy Bible's pages, 

Fall, while ye 're pleading for a race 

Whose blood has flowed through chains for ages ; 

And pray, — ' Lord, let thy kingdom come ! ' 

And see if ye 're not stricken dumb. 

Yes, men of God ! ye may not speak, 
As, by the Word of God. ye 're bidden ; 

By the pressed lip, — the blanching cheek, 
Ye feel yourselves rebuked and chidden ;. % 

* Bear witness, heights of Alton !■ t Bear witness, bones of Love-joy ! 

t Bear witness, ' Grounds of Complaint preferred against the Rev. John 
Pierpont, by a Committee of the Parish, called " The Proprietors of Hol- 
lis-s?reet Meetinghouse,' 1 to be submitted to an Ecclesiastical Council, as 
Reasons for dissolving his Connexion with said Parish,' July 27th, 1840 : 
one of which runs thus; — Because 'of his too busy interference with 
questions of legislation on the subject of prohibiting the sale of ardent 
spirits ; — of his too busy interference with questions of legislation-oil the 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 17 

And, if ye 're not cast out, ye fear it ; — 
And why ? — ' The brethren ' will not hear it. 

Since, then, through pulpit, or through press, 
To prove your freedom yc 're not able, 

Go, — like the Sun of Righteousness, 
By wise men honored, — to a stable ! 

Bend there to Liberty your knee ! 

Say there that God made all men free ! 

Even there, — ere Freedom's vows ye 've plighted, 
Ere of her form ye 've caught a glimpse, 

Even there are fires infernal lighted, 

And ye 're driven out by Slavery's imps. * 

subject of imprisonment for debt; — of his too busy interference with the 
popular controversy on the subject of the abolition of slavery.' And this, 
in the eighteen hundred and fortieth year of Him whom the Lord sent 'to 
proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to them 
that are bound ' '. 

* Bear witness, that large ' upper room,' the hay-loft over the stable of 
the Marlborough Hotel, standing upon the ground now covered by the 
Marlborough Chapel; the only temple hi Boston, into which the friends 
of human liberty, that is, of the liberty of man as man, irrespective of 
color or caste, could gain admittance for ihe annual meeting of the Mas- 
sachusetts Ami-Slavery Society, January 25th, 1S37 Bear witness, too, 
that smaller room in Summer street, where a meeting was held the same 
day. by members of the same Society ; where their only altar was an iron 
stove. — their onl) incense, the funics of a quantity of cayenne pepper, 
that some of lli!- ' imps' had sprinkled upon the hot stove-plates, to drive 
the friends of the freedom of all men out of that little asylum. 



18 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Ah, well ! — 'so persecuted they 
The prophets ' of a former day ! 

Go, then, and build yourselves a hall, 
To prove ye are not slaves, but men ! 

Write ' Freedom,' on its towering wall! 
Baptize it in the name of Penn ; 

And give it to her holy cause, 

Beneath the iEgis of her laws ; — 

Within let Freedom's anthem swell ; — 
And, while your hearts begin to throb, 

And burn within you Hark ! the yell, — 

The torch, — the torrent of the Mob ! — 

They 're Slavery's troops that round you sweep, 

And leave your hall a smouldering heap ! * 

At Slavery's beck, the prayers ye urge 

On your own servants, through the door 
Of your own Senate, — that the scourge 

♦Bear witness, ye ruins of 'Pennsylvania Hall'! — a heap of ruins 
made by a Philadelphia mob, May 17lh, 1S3S, — and still allowed to re- 
main a heap of ruins, as I was lately told in Philadelphia, from the fear, 
on the part of the city government, that, should the noble structure be 
reared again, and dedicated again to Liberty, the fiery tragedy of the 17th 
of May would be encored. 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 19 

May gash your brother's back no more, — 
Are trampled underneath their feet, 
While ye stand praying in the street ! 

At Slavery's beck, ye send your sons * 
To hunt down Indian wives or maids, 

Doomed to the lash ! — Yes, and their bones, 
Whitening 'mid swamps and everglades, 

Where no friend goes to give them graves, 

Prove that ye are not Slavery's slaves ! 

At Slavery's beck, the very hands 

Ye lift to Heaven, to swear ye 're free, 

Will break a truce, to seize the lands 
Of Seminole or Cherokee ! 

Yes, — tear a flag, that Tartar hordes 

Respect, and shield it with their swords ! t 

Vengeance is thine, Almighty God ! 

To pay it hath thy justice bound thee ; 
Even now, I see thee take thy rod, — 

Thy thunders, leashed and growling round thee ; 

* Bear witness, Florida war, from first to last. 

t Bear witness, ghost of the great-hearted, broken-hearted Osceola! 



20 -ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Slip them not yet, in mercy ! — Deign 
Thy wrath yet longer to restrain ! — 

Or, — let thy kingdom, Slavery, come ! 

Let Church, let State, receive thy chain ! 
Let pulpit, press, and hall be dumb, 

If so ' the brotherhood ' ordain ! 
The Muse her own indignant spirit 
AVill yet speak out ; — and men shall hear it. 

Yes; — while, at Concord, there's a stone 
That she can strike her fire from still ; 

While there 's a shaft at Lexington, 
Or half a one on Bunker's Hill, * 

There shall she stand and strike her lyre, 

And Truth and Freedom shall stand by her. 

But, should she thence by mobs be driven, 
For purer heights she '11 plume her wing; - 

Spurning a land of slaves, to heaven 
She '11 soar, where she can safely sing. 

God of our lathers, speed her thither! 

God of the free, let me go with her ! 
1838. 

* The shaft on Bunker's Hill is now a whole one. 



BY JOHN FIEftPONT. 21 



THE GAG 



Ho ! children of the granite hills 

That bristle with the hackmatack, 
And sparkle with the crystal rills 

That hurry toward the Merrimack, 
Dam up those rills ! — for, while they run, 
They all rebuke your Atherton* 

Dam up those rills ! — they flow so free 

O'er icy slope, o'er beetling crag, 
That soon they '11 all be off at sea, 

Beyond the reach of Charlie's gag ; — 
And when those waters are the sea's, 
They '11 speak and thunder as they please ! 

*I have no feelings of personal hostility towards the Hon. Charles G. 
Atherton. But if, by stifling the prayers of more than one million of his 
fellow men, in order that he may perpetuate the slavery of more than two 
millions, the best friend I have on earth shall seek to make his name im- 
mortal, I will do my best to — help him. 



22 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS. 

Then freeze them stiff! — but let there come 
No winds to chain them ; — should they blow, 

They '11 speak of freedom; — let the dumb 
And breathless frost forbid their flow. 

Then, all will be so hushed and mum, 

You '11 think your Atherton has come. 

Not he ! — ' Of all the airts * that blow,' 
He dearly loves the soft South-west, 

That tells where rice and cotton grow, 
And man is, like the Patriarchs, blest 

( So say some eloquent divines) 

With God-given slaves t and concubines. 

Let not the winds go thus at large, 
That now o'er all your hills career, — 

Your Sunapee and Kearsarge, — 

Nay, nay, methiuks the bounding deer 

That, like the winds, sweep round their hill, 

Should all be gagged, to keep them still. 

* ' Of a' the airts the wind can blaw.' — Burns. 

t ' Here we see God dealing in slaves,' &e. — Sermon of the Rev. T. 
Clapp. New Orleans. 



BY JOHN PIERPONI. 23 

And all your big and little brooks, 

That rush down laughing towards the sea, 

Your Lampreys, Squams, and Contoocooks, 
That show a spirit to be free, 

Should learn they 're not to take such airs ; — 

Your mouths are stopped ; — then why not theirs ? 

Plug every spring that dares to play 

At bubble, in its gravel cup, 
Or babble, as it runs away ! 

Nay, — catch and coop your eagles up ! 
It is not meet that they should fly, 
And scream of freedom, through your sky. 

Ye 've not done yet ! Your very trees, — 
Those sturdy pines, their heads that wag 

In concert with the mountain breeze, — 
Unless they 're silenced by a gag, 

Will whisper, — ' We will stand our ground ! 

Our heads are up ! Our hearts are sound ! ' 

Yea, Atherton, the upright firs 

O er thee exult, and taunt thee thus, — 
' Though thou art fallen, no feller stirs 



24 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

His foot, or lifts his axe at ns.* 

" Hell from beneath, is moved at thee," 

Since thou hast crouched to Slavery. 

' Thou saidst, " I will exalt my throne 

Above the stars ; and, in the north 
Will sit upon the mount alone, 

And send my Slavery ' Orders ' forth " ! 
Our White Hills spurn thee from their sight ; 
Their blasts shall speed thee in thy flight. 

' Go ! breathe amid the aguish damps 

That gather o'er the Congaree ; — 
Go ! hide thee in the cypress swamps 

That darken o'er the black Santee, — 
And be the moss, above thy head, 
The gloomy drapery of thy bed ! 

' The moss, that creeps from bough to bough, 
And hangs in many a dull festoon ; — 

* ' Yea, the fir trees rejoice at thee, and the cedars of Lebanon, saying, 
Since thou art laid down, no feller is come up against us. Hell, from be- 
neath, is moved for thee, to meet thee at thy coming. — For thou hast said 
in thy heart, I will ascend into heaven, I will exalt myself above the stars 
of God ; I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation, in the sides 
of the north.' — Isaiah, xiv. 8, 9, 13. 



BY JOHN PIEEPONT. 25 

There, peeping through thy curtain, thou * 

Mayest catch some " glimpses of the moon " ; 
Or, better, twist of it a string, 
Noose in thy neck, repent, and — swing ! ' 

Sons of the granite hills, your birds, 

Your winds, your waters, and your trees, 

Of faith and freedom speak, in words 
That should be felt in times like these ; 

Their voice comes to you from the sky ! 

In them, God speaks of Liberty. 

Sons of the granite hills, awake ! 

Ye 're on a mighty stream afloat, 
With all your liberties at stake ; — 

A faithless pilot 's on your boat ! 
And, while ye 've lain asleep, ye 're snagged ! 
Nor can ye cry for help, — ye 're gagged ! 

1839. 

* These fir trees that grow upon the granite hills, though they seem to 
have some heart, can certainly have no bowels, or only granite ones, else 
they could never give such suicidal counsel. 



26 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 



THE CHAIN 



Is it his daily toil, that wrings 

From the slave's bosom that deep sigh? 
Is it his niggard fare, that brings 

The tear into his down-cast eye ? 

O no ■; by toil and humble fare, 

Earth's sons their health and vigor gain; 
It is because the slave must wear 
His chain. 

Is it the sweat, from every pore 
That starts, and glistens in the sun, 

As, the young cotton bending o'er, 
His naked back it shines upon ? 



BY JOHN FIERrONT. 27 

Is it the drops that, from his hreast, 

Into the thirsty furrow fall, 
That scald his soul, deny him rest, 

And turn his cup of life to gall ? 

No ; — for, that man with sweating brow 

Shall eat his bread, doth God ordain ; 
This the slave's spirit doth not bow; 
It is his chain. 

4 

Is it, that scorching sands and skies 

Upon his velvet skin have set 
A hue, admired in beauty's eyes, 

In Genoa's silks, and polished jet? 

No; for this color was his pride, 

When roaming o'er his native plain ; 
Even here, his hue can he abide, 

But not his chain. 

Nor is it, that his back and. limbs 
Are scored with many a gory gash, 

That his heart bleeds, and his brain swims, 
And the Man dies beneath the lash. 



28 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

For Baal!s priests, on Carmel's slope, 

Themselves with knives and lancets scored, 

Till the blood spirted, — in the hope 

The god would hear, whom they adored ; — 

And Christian flagellants their backs, 
All naked, to the scourge have given ; 

And martyrs to their stakes and racks 

Have gone, of choice, in hope of heaven ; — 

For here there was an inward will ! 

Here spake the spirit, upward tending ; 
And o'er Faith's cloud-girt altar, still, 

Hope hung her rainbow, heavenward bending. 

But will and hope hath not the slave, 

His bleeding spirit to sustain : — 
No, — he must drag on, to the grave, 
His chain. 

1839. 



J 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 29 



THE FUGITIVE SLAVE'S APOSTROPHE TO THE 
NORTH STAR. 



Stah of the North ! though night-winds drift 

The fleecy drapery of the sky, 
Between thy lamp and me, I lift, 

Yea, lift with hope, my sleepless eye, 
To the blue heights wherein thou dwellest, 
And of a land of freedom tellest. 

Star of the North ! while blazing day 
Pours round me its full tide of light, 

And hides thy pale but faithful ray, 
I, too, lie hid, and long for night : 

For night ; — I dare not walk at noon, 

Nor dare I trust the faithless moon, — 



30 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Nor faithless man, whose burning lust 
For gold hath riveted my chain ; 

No other leader can I trust, 

But thee, of even the starry train ; 

For, all the host around thee burning, 

Like faithless man, keep turning, turning. 

I may not follow where they go : 
Star of the North, I look to thee, 

While on I press ; for well I know 

Thy light and truth shall set me free ; — 

Thy light, that no poor slave deceiveth; 

Thy truth, that all my soul believeth. 

They of the East beheld the star 

That over Bethlehem's manger glowed ; 

With joy they hailed it from afar, 

And followed where it marked the road, 

Till, where its rays directly fell, 

They found the hope of Israel. 

Wise were the men, who followed thus 
The star that sets man free from sin ! 
Star of the North ! thou art to us, — 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 31 

Who 're slaves because we wear a skin 
Dark as is night's protecting wing, — 
Thou art to us a holy thing. 

And we are wise to follow thee ! 

I trust thy steady light alone : 
Star of the North ! thou seem'st to me 

To burn before the Almighty's throne, 
To guide me, through these forests dim 
And vast, to liberty and Him. 

Thy beam is on the glassy breast 
Of the still spring, upon whose brink 

I lay my weary limbs to rest, 

And bow my parching lips to drink. 

Guide of the friendless negro's way, 

I bless thee for this quiet ray ! 

In the dark top of southern pines 

I nestled, when the driver's horn 
Called to the field, in lengthening lines, 

My fellows, at the break of morn. 
And there I lay, till thy sweet face 

Looked in upon ' my hiding-place.' 



32 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

The tangled cane-brake, — where I crept, 
For shelter from the heat of noon, 

And where, while others toiled, I slept, 
Till wakened by the rising moon, — 

As its stalks felt the night-wind free, 

Gave me to catch a glimpse of thee. 

Star of the North ! in bright array, 
The constellations round thee sweep, 

Each holding on its nightly way, 
Rising, or sinking in the deep, 

And, as it bangs in mid heaven flaming, 

The homage of some nation claiming. 

This nation to the Eagle * cowers ; 

Fit ensign ! she 's a bird of spoil ; — 
Like worships like ! for each devours 

The earnings of another's toil. 
I 've felt her talons and her beak, 
And now the gentler Lion seek. 

The Lion, at the Virgin's feet, 

Couches, and lays bis mighty paw 

* The constellations, Aquila, Lea, and Virgo, are here meant by the as- 
tronomical fugitive. 



BY JOHN PIEEPONT. 33 

Into her lap ! — an emblem meet 

Of England's Queen and English law: — 
Queen, that hath made her Islands free ! 
Law that holds out its shield to me ! 

Star of the North ! upon that shield 
Thou shinest ! — O, for ever shine ! 

The negro, from the cotton-field, 
Shall then beneath its orb recline, 

And feed the Lion couched before it, 

Nor heed the Eagle screaming o'er it ! 
1839. 



34 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 



SLAVEHOLDER'S ADDRESS TO THE NORTH STAR. 



Star of the North, thou art not bigger 
Than is the diamond in my ring ; 

Yet every black, star-gazing nigger 
Stares at thee, as at some great thing ! 

Yes, gazes at thee, till the lazy 

And thankless rascal is half crazy. 

Some Quaker scoundrel must have told 'em 
That, if they take their flight tow'rd thee, 

They 'd get where ' massa ' cannot hold 'em ; 
And, therefore, to the North they flee. 

Fools ! to be led off, where they can't earn 

Their living, by thy lying lantern. 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 35 

Thoa 'rt a cold water star, I reckon, 
Although I 've never seen thee, yet, 

When to the bath thy sisters beckon, 
Get even thy golden sandals wet ; 

Nor in the wave have known thee dip, 

In our hot nights, thy finger's tip. 

If thou ivouldst, nightly, leave the pole, 

To enjoy a regular ablution 
In the North Sea, or Symmes's hole, 

Our ' Patriarchal Institution,' 
From which thou findest many a ransom, 
Would, doubtless, give thee something handsome. 

Although thou 'rt a cold water star, 

As I have said, I think, already, 
Thou 'rt hailed, by many a tipsy tar, 

Who likes thee just because thou 'rt steady, 
And hold'st the candle for the rover, 
When he is more than ' half seas over.' 

But, while Ham's seed, our land to bless, 

' Increase and multiply ' like rabbits, 
We like thee, Yankee Star, the less, 



36 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

For thy bright eye, and steady habits. 
Pray waltz with Venus, star of love, 
Or take a bout with reeling Jove. 

Thou art an abolition star, 

And to my wench wilt be of use, if her 
Dark eye should find thee, ere the car 

Of our true old slave-catcher, ' Lucifer, 
Star of the morning,' upward rolls, 
And, with its light, puts out the pole's. 

On our field hands thou lookest, too — 

A sort of nightly overseer — 
Canst find no other work to do ? 

I tell thee, thou 'rt not wanted here ; 
So, pray, shine only on the oceans, 
Thou number one of ' Northern notions.' 

Yes, northern notions, — northern lights! 

As hates the devil holy water, 
So hate I all that Rogers writes, 

Or Weld, that married Grimke's daughter:' 
So hate I all these northern curses, 
From Birney's prose to Whittier's verses. 



BY JOHN PIEEPONT. 37 

' Put out the light ! ' exclaimed the Moor — 
I think they call his name Othello — 

When opening his wife's chamber door 
To cut her throat — the princely fellow ! 

Noblest of all the nigger nation ! 

File leader in amalgamation ! 

' Put out the light ! ' and so say I. 

Could ' I quench thee, thou naming minister,' 
No longer, in the northern sky, 

Should blaze thy beacon-fire so sinister. 
North Star, thy light's unwelcome — very — 
We '11 vote thee ' an incendiary.' 

And, to our ' natural allies' — 

Our veteran Kinderhook Invincibles, 

Who do our bidding, in the guise 

Of ' northern men, with southern principles,' — 

Men who have faces firm as dough, 

And, as we set their noses, go — 

To these, we '11 get some scribe to write, 
And tell them not to let thee shine — 
Excepting of a cloudy night — 



38 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Any where, south of Dixon's line. 
If, beyond that, thou shin'st, an inch, 
We '11 have thee up before Judge Lynch : — 

And when, thou abolition star, 

Who preachest freedom, in all weathers, 
Thou hast got on a coat of tar, 

And, over that, a cloak of feathers, 
That thou art 'fixed' shall none deny, 
If there 's a fixed star in the sky. 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 39 



ECONOMY OF SLAVERY. 



' One mouth and one back to two hands,' is the law, 
That the hand of his Maker has stamped upon 
man ; 
But Slavery lays on God's image her paw, 
And fixes him out on a different plan ; — 
Two mouths and tivo backs to two hands she cre- 
ates ; 
And the consecjuence is, as she might have ex- 
pected; 
Let the hands do their best, upon all her estates, 
The mouths go half fed, and the backs half pro- 
tected. 
1840. 



40 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 



PLYMOUTH ROCK. 



Escaped from all the perils of the sea, — 

Storms, shoals, — the angry and engulphing 

waves, — 

Here stand we, on a savage shore, — all free, 

Thy freemen, Lord ! and not of man the slaves. 

Here will we toil and serve thee, till our graves 

On these bleak hills shall open. — When the blood 

Thou pourest now so warm along our veins 
Shall westward flow, till Mississippi's flood 

Gives to our children's children his broad plains. 
Ne'er let them wear, O God, ox forge a bondman's 
chains ! 
1840. 



BY JOHN PIERPONT 



41 




THE LIBERTY BELL. 



The Liberty Bell — the Liberty Bell — 
The Tocsin of Freedom and Slavery's knell, 
That a whole long year has idle hung, 
Again is wagging its clamorous tongue ! 

As it merrily swings, 

Its notes it flings 
4 



42 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 



On the dreamy ears of planters and kings ; 

And it gives them a token 

Of manacles broken ; 
And all that the prophets of Freedom have spoken, 

With tongues of flame, 

Like those which came 
On the men who first spoke in the Saviour's name, 

Comes over their soul, 

As death-bells knoll, 
Or the wheels of coming thunder roll ! 

Our Liberty Bell — 

They know it well, 
The Tocsin of Freedom and Slavery's knell ! 

Our Liberty Bell ! let its startling tone 
Abroad o'er a slavish land be thrown ! 
Nay, on the wings of the north-east wind, 
Let it reach the isles of the Western Ind — 

Those isles of the sun, 

Where the work is done, 
That, here at the North, is but just begun. 

Let the Bell be swung, 

Till old and young, 



\ 

BYJOHNPIERPONT 43 

That dwell New-England's hills among, 

Shall wake at the peal, 

And, with holy zeal, 
Beside their mountain altars kneel, 

And pray that the yoke 

From the necks may be broke 
Of the millions who feel the ' continual stroke ' 

Of the despot's rod ; 

And that earth's green sod * 

No more by the foot of a slave may be trod. 

Let the Liberty Bell ring out — ring out! 
And let freemen reply, with a thundering shout, 
That the gory scourges and clanking chains, 
That blast the beauty of Southern plains, 

Shall be stamped in the dust ; 

And that thrice-gorged Lust, 
That gloats on his helpless bond-maid's bust, 

Ere long shall see 

That slave set free, 
And joining in Liberty's Jubilee. 

That Jubilee song ! 

1 Lord, how long ' 



44 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Must the world yet wait for that Jubilee song ? 

Yet, come it must ; 

Jehovah is just, 
And his Truth and his Spirit we cheerfully trust. 

That Truth to tell, 

Comes the Liberty Bell, 
And that Spirit shall make it strike Slavery's knell. 

Our Liberty Bell ! let its solemn chime 
Fall on the ear of hoary Time, 
As onward — onward to its goal, 
He sees the chariot of Liberty roll ; 

While with shout and song, 

The swelling throng 
Of the friends of the bondman urge it along. 

Let the same chime fall 

On the ears of all, 
Who tread on the neck of the negro thrall, 

Till they start from the ground, 

As they will at the sound, 
When the trumpets of angels are pealing around; 

And the murdered slave 

Comes forth from his grave, 



BY JOHN PIER.PONT. 45 

And smiles at the flash of th' Avenger's glaive ; 

And the world shall accord 

In the righteous award 
To both tyrant and slave, in that day of the Lord ! 

1842. 



46 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS 



TO ABOLITIONISTS 



Servants of God most high, 

Who on his word rely, 
By ancient seers and holy prophets spoken — 

That all the chains that gall 

The Ethiopian thrall, 
And every yoke, shall from his neck be broken- 

Whether, with holy zeal, 

Ye in your closets kneel, 
Or plead the cause of Freedom in a throDg, 

Or through a dauntless press, 

The voice of righteousness 
Ye pour out, like a torrent, deep and strong — 



BY JOHN PIER.PONT. 47 

Give not your labors o'er, 

Because ye 're few and poor, 
Because a lion couches in your path, 

Because a lawless horde 

Upon your heads have poured, — 
Your heads unhelmeted, — their vialed wrath. 

The ancient seers, like you, 

To God and duty true, 
Were, in their day, reviled and put to shame : 

Scorned, hated, hunted, they 

From earth have passed away : 
Their forms have passed away, but not their fame. 

Death dares not touch their Word! 

The soul of man is stirred 
By it, wherever on the darkling earth, 

God's Truth and human Right 

Come down to dwell in light, 
And holy Freedom struggles into birth. 

So shall your words be breathed, 
Where'er man's brow is wreathed 
With the sharp chaplet that for Him was twined, 



48 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Who lived mid taunts and sneers, 
Who died mid scoffs and jeers, 
From sin and slavery to redeem mankind. 

Servants of God most holy, ' 

Who stoop to man most lowly, 
To lift him up and give him liberty, 

What though to-day 's unpleasant ! 

Ye live not in the present ; 
Your life is in the infinite TO BE. 

Your words of love sincere, 

Now spoken in the ear, 
Where Mammon's priests bend at his altar brazen, 

And lift the suppliant eye, 

In foul idolatry — 
All tongues shall trumpet, and on house-tops blazon. 

Yea, and your ' name and praise,' 

That, in these slavish days, 
So many vainly dream are soon to perish, 

As in the coming age 

They shine on History's page, 
The proud shall envy, and the good shall cherish. 
1842. 



BY JOHN PIEBPONT. 49 



DEATH OF CHARLES FOLLEN. 



Written for the Funeral Service in Commemoration of the Life and 
Character of Charles Follen, before the Massachusetts Anti-Slavery 
Society, April 17th, 1840. Address by Samuel J. May. 



O, not for thee weep ; — we weep 
For her, whose lone and long caress, 

And widow's tears, from fountains deep, 
Fall on the early fatherless. 

'T is for ourselves we mourn ; — we mourn 
Our blighted hopes, our wishes crossed, 

Thy strength, that hath our burdens borne, 
Thy love, thy smile, thy counsels lost. 



50 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

'T is for the slave we sigh : — we sigh 
To think thou sleepest on a shore 

Where thy calm voice and beaming eye 
Shall plead the bondman's cause no more. 

' T is for our land we grieve : — we grieve 
That Freedom's fane, Devotion's shrine, 

And Faith's fresh altar, thou should'st leave, 
And they all lose a soul like thine. 

A soul like thine — so true a soul, 

"Wife, friends, our land, the world must miss 

The waters o'er thy corse may roll, 
But thy pure spirit is in bliss. 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 51 



HYMN FOR THE FIRST OF AUGUST. 



Where Britannia's emerald isles 

Gem the Caribbean sea, 
And an endless summer smiles, 

Lo ! the negro thrall is free ! 
Yet not on Columbia's plains, 

Hath the sun of freedom risen : 
Here, in darkness and in chains, 

Toiling millions pine in prison. 

Shout ! ye islands disenthralled, 
Point the finger, as in scorn, 

At a country that is called 

Freedom's home, where men are born 



52 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Heirs, for life, to chains and whips, — 
Bondmen, who have never known 

Wife, child, parent, that their lips 
Ever dared to call their own. 

Yet, a Christian land is this ! 

Yea, and ministers of Christ 
Slavery's foot, in homage, kiss ; 

And their brother, who is priced 
Higher than their Saviour, even, 

Do they into bondage sell ; — 
Pleading thus the cause of Heaven, 
• Serving thus the cause of hell. 

Holy Father, let thy word, 

Spoken by thy prophets old, 
By the pliant priest be heard ; 

And let lips, that now are cold, 
(Chilled by Mammon's golden wand !) 

With our nation's 'burden' glow, 
Till the free man and the bond 

Shout for Slavery's overthrow ! 
1842. 



BY.TOHNFIERPONT. 53 



PRAYER OF THE ABOLITIONIST, 



We ask not that the slave should lie, 

As lies his master, at his ease, 
Beneath a silken canopy, 

Or in the shade of blooming trees. 

We mourn not that the man should toil ; 

'Tis nature's need — 'tis God's decree; 
But, let the hand that tills the soil, 

Be, like the wind that fans it, free. 

We ask not ' eye for eye ' — that all, 
Who forge the chain and ply thewhip, 

Should feel their torture — that the thrall \ 
Should wield the scourge of mastership — \ 



54 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

We only ask, O God, that they, 
Who bind a brother, may relent : 

But, Great Avenger, we do pray 
That the wrong-doer may repent. 

1842. 



BY JOHN PIEKPONT, 55 



UNCHAIN THE LABORER. 



Strike from that laborer's limbs his chain ! 

In the fierce sun the iron burns ! 
By night, it fills his dreams with pain ; 

By day, it galls him as he turns. 

Yes ; and your dreams it visits, too, 

When Fear stands o'er your restless bed, 

And shakes it in your ears, till you 
Tremble, as at an earthquake's tread. 

Then break his chain, and let him go, 

And, with the spirit of a man, 
Earn his own bread ; and you shall know 

Peace, — that you know not now, nor can 



56 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

The chain, that binds to you your slave, 
Binds you to him, with links so strong, 

That you must wear them to your grave, 
If all your days you do him wrong. 

Then, from his body and your soul, 

Throw off the load, while yet you may ; 

Thus strive, in faith, for heaven's high goal, 
And wait, in hope, the judgement day. 

1842. 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 57 



PRAYER FOR THE SLAVE, 



Almighty God ! thou Giver 

Of all our sunny plains, 
That stretch from sea to river, 

Hear'st thou thy children's chains ? 
Seest thou the snappered lashes, 

That daily sting, afresh ? 
Seest thou the cow-skin's gashes, 

Cut through the quivering flesh ? 

Seest thou the sores, that rankle, 
Licked by no pitying dog, • 

Where, round the bondman's ancle, 
They 've rivetted a clog ? 
5 



ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 

Hear'st thou the curse he mutters ? 

Seest thou his flashing eye ? 
Hear'st thou the prayer he utters, 

That thou would'st let him die ? 

God of the poor and friendless, 

Shall this unequalled wrong, 
This agony, be endless ? 

How long, O Lord, how long 
Shall man set, on his brother, 

The iron heel of sin, 
The Holy Ghost to smother — 

To crush the God within ! 

Call out, O God, thy legions — 

The hosts of love and light ! 
Ev'n in the blasted regions 

That Slavery wraps in night, 
Some of thine own anointed 

Shall catch the welcome call, 
And, at the hour appointed, 

Do battle for the thrall. 



BY JOHN PIERPONT. 59 

Let press, let pulpit thunder, 

In all slaveholders' ears, 
Till they disgorge the plunder, 

They 've garnered up, for years ; 
Till Mississippi's Valley, 

Till Carolina's coast, 
Round Freedom's standard ; rally, 

A vast, a ransomed host! 
1842. 



'3.0 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS, 



ODE, 

Sung by the Constituents of John Quincy Adams, on his return frotn 
Congress, September 17, 1842. 



Not from the bloody field, 
Borne on his battered shield, 

By foes o'ercome, 
But, from a sterner fight, 
In the defence of Right, 
Clothed in a conquerer's might, 

We hail him home. 

Where Slavery's minions cower 
Before the servile power, 

He bore their ban ; 
And, like an aged oak, 
That braved the lightning's stroke, 
When thunders round it broke, 

Stood up, A MAN. 



BY JOHN FIERPONT. 61 

Nay — when they stormed aloud, 
And round him, like a cloud, 

Came, thick and black, 
He, single-handed, strove, 
And, like Olympian Jove, 
With his own thunder, drove 

The phalanx back. 

No leafy wreath we twine, 
Of oak or Isthmian pine, 

To grace his brow ; 
Like his own locks of gray, 
Such leaves would fall away, 
As will the grateful lay, 

We weave him now. 

But Time shall touch the page, 
That tells how Quincy's sage 

Has dared to live, 
Save as he touches wine, 
Or Shakspeare's glowing line, 
Or Raphael's forms divine, 

New life to give. 



62 ANTI-SLAVERY POEMS 



'I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAYS.' 



I would not live always ; I ask not to stay, 
Where I must bear the burden and heat of the day : 
Where my body is cut with the lash or the cord, 
And a hovel and hunger are all my reward. 

I would not live always, where life is a load 

To the flesh and the spirit : — since there's an abode 

For the soul disenthralled, let me breathe my last 

breath, 
And repose in thine arms, my deliverer, Death ! — 

I would not live always to toil as a slave : 

O no, let me rest, though I rest in my grave ; 

For there, from their troubling, the wicked shall 

cease, 
And, free from his master, the slave be at peace. 
1843. 



Br JOHN PIERPONT. 63 



OFT, IN THE CHILLY NIGHT 



Oft, in the chilly night, 

Ere slumber's chain has bound me, 
When all her silvery light 

The moon is pouring round me, 
Beneath her ray, 
I kneel and pray, 
That God would give some token, 
That Slavery's chains, 
On southern plains, 
Shall all, ere long, be broken. 
Yes, in the chilly night, 

Though Slavery's chain has bound me, 
Kneel I, and feel the might 
Of God's right arm around me. 



64 ANTI-SLAVERY TOEMS. 

When, at the driver's call, 

In cold or snltry weather, 
We slaves, both great and small, 
Turn out to toil together, 
I feel like one, 
From whom the sun 
Of hope has long departed, 
And morning's light, 
And weaiy night 
Still find me broken-hearted. 
Thus when the chilly breath 

Of night is sighing round me, 
Kneel I, and wish that Death, 

In his cold chain, had bound me. 
1843. 



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2lntt-SIaiicra $ £ m 



JOHN PIERPONT. 



' Was it right, 
While my unnumbered brethren toiled and bled, 
That I should dream away the entrusted hours 
On rose-leaf beds, pampering the coward heart, 
With feelings alt too delicate for use ?' — Coleridge. 



BOSTON: 
PUBLISHED BY OLIVER JOHNSON 

And Sold at 25 Cornhill. 
1843. 



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